Northern Lights
by Socrates7727
Summary: Bucky is a new transfer student to the college and he can't help bumping into a fiesty redhead who also speaks Russian. And happens to have a really hot friend... Stucky! College!AU Fluff, no lemon. One-shot.


AN I don't own Marvel or any of its characters! Stucky fluff one-shot

* * *

Bucky was new-a transfer kid from out of the country-and he was still kind of reeling from more than just the move. Nat was a fiesty red head who strode up to him in the library one day. She heard him mumbling in Russian.

"You speak Russian?" His head shot up and he nearly spilled his coffee but he nodded. She took the seat across from him without missing a beat.

"I'm Natasha, my friends call me Nat."

"Hello Natasha," he was already chorusing, only semi-thinking about it, but she tsked.

"I said my friends call me Nat." He blinked but slowly gave her a small smile. "What's your name, hotstuff?" He chuckled at the obvious come on but it seem half-hearted, like she wasn't really trying.

"James. But my friends call me Bucky." She flashed him the most energetic, confident smile he'd ever seen on a human face.

"Nice to meet you, Bucky." So they were friends. "Where are you from?" She gestured first to his notebook, obviously noticing the pages filled with sloppy cyrillic writing, but she also gestured to his tattoos. Not the full sleeve he had on his left arm, though. While that was what drew most people's attention, she very clearly indicated her interest in the tiny set of numbers inked behind his left ear.

"A lot of places, but Odessa most recently. You?" He didn't have to gesture for her Russian to be called into question, but she just smiled at him and kicked her feet up on the chair across from her.

"A lot of places. Sakha Republic originally." He nodded, both in understanding and in recognition of the state within Russian borders. He also didn't miss that she'd said originally, rather than recently, but he didn't bring it up. She seemed to appreciate that.

"Well, Bucky, I gotta go-reserved a study room for some quiet away from my roommates-but it was nice meeting you. Unless you want to join me?" He looked back up at her, but it didn't seem flirtatious. As if sensing his hesitation, she held up her hands in surrender and gave him a small smile.

"No tricks, I'm not trying to hit on you. I imagine you get that a lot." He rolled his eyes but followed her. The sound of the printer a few feet away was starting to wear on him and, even if he liked the chair he'd gotten, he didn't pretend to be comfortable surrounded by tense silence. But, as soon as he stepped into the private study room, he could tell that her goal was no longer studying. At least, not studying the Physics textbook she had with her. Now, he was the topic of choice.

"That a serial number behind your ear?" He gave a soft glare, enough to warn but not scare, but she didn't even blink. She, apparently, was used to getting answers.

"Something like that." Surprisingly, she nodded and just accepted his vague answer. That trust wasn't there yet and she seemed to understand, even if it was grudgingly, that she had to earn it.

"You Russian born and bred? Or did you pick up the language somewhere along the way?" He opened his notebook again and flipped to a blank page even though the previous one wasn't full, just on the off chance she tried to read over his shoulder. She made no move to, though, just stared at her Physics book and waited for an answer.

"What do you think?" That made her smile. She liked being challenged, he was learning, and it made her a little more ballsy with him which he wasn't opposed to either. Her confidence was… refreshing.

"Your accent is solid and Western, making me think born, but something about you just doesn't feel Russian. Army brat?" He laughed, turning the page again absentmindedly, but she didn't. She was waiting for his answer.

"Navy. You?" She turned the page in her book as well, but they both knew she hadn't read a word. She was much too focused on him, at the moment.

"Born." A knock at the door stopped him from asking another question but, thankfully, it stopped her too. She stood and opened it, smiling.

"Hey, Steve, welcome to the party." Immediately, the man in the doorway saw him and stiffened. It wasn't obvious, not if you weren't watching for it, but it was clear that Nat hadn't told him she'd adopted the local library stray.

"Steve, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is my friend Steve."

"Best friend," Steve corrected, still carefully eyeing Bucky out of the corner of his eye, but they laughed together. Bucky just gave him a little nod. The two sat down at the table and began quizzing each other for a physics exam, leaving Bucky to listen and observe, but Bucky couldn't help himself. Nat was disarming but Steve? Steve was… intriguing.

He found himself writing, describing, the way he always did whenever he saw something that made him feel. It was the only way he'd ever learned to process and understand. He kept it in Russian, very deliberately, but let his eyes flick up every now and then to double check his details. His eyes were blue but not like oceans or blueberries. His hair was blonde but not like straw or bleach. He had no difficulty naming any of things that weren't Steve, it was figuring out exactly what he was that eluded him. His eyes, though, were what troubled him the most because he'd never seen that beautiful kind of gradient from blue to seafoam green in nature before. It didn't seem right that there was no comparison, though. Finally, he found one thing that seemed to fit.

Северное сияние

Nat leaned over when he was distracted, watching the way Steve's teeth caught his lower lip and chewed in frustration whenever he didn't get an answer. She saw the page before he could stop her.

"Northern lights, huh?" Bucky felt a flush heat up his cheeks and prayed that Steve couldn't see it. He slammed the notebook closed but not before Nat gave him the slyest, most devious smirk he'd ever seen and he just knew she had a plan. Likely, one that he wouldn't like.

* * *

They were a good group, the three of them. Steve and Nat introduced him to other friends but none of them seemed to click as easily or as deeply as the three of them did. He'd been wary of her plan at first, but he'd grown impatient and given up trying to see whatever it was coming. Instead, he'd surrendered and let himself get close to the two dorks who were now, suddenly, the two most important people in his life. It was strange, but he loved it.

"Can I get you a drink?" He was most definitely not twenty one, and neither was she, but she kept the real Russian vodka in a box under the sink and that was exactly the kind of liquor he was a sucker for. She knew it too.

"Always." She smiled, and poured. They tended to speak in Russian whenever Steve wasn't with them. At first it had been more of a show, a test, a way of bonding and also finding a rhythm to their friendship, but as they'd both gotten more comfortable it just became a habit. Sometimes, they did it in front of Steve too-just to annoy him. She slid the cocktail across the counter to him-pink, with strawberries in it-but he didn't make a face. He'd never been one for just taking shots and he never complained when she offered him vodka in a better tasting package.

"Two each, so we can catch up to Steve when he gets here?" Bucky nodded with a little chuckle as she sipped her own. It wasn't like their shared Russian language abilities made them more alcohol tolerant-though Nat swore hers did-it was just that Steve hardly ever drank and, when he did, was a bit of a lightweight. In a cute way, of course, because everything Steve did was cute, but..

Wait, no. He had to stop thinking like that or Steve was going to notice. Nat already had, he could tell from that first day in the library with the northern lights thing, but he tried not to think about that. The important thing was that Steve didn't know.

"Aww you guys started without me?" Steve barged in, toting bags of groceries for Natasha's apartment, but the door had been unlocked for him so neither were surprised. Bucky downed the rest of his cocktail and slid the glass back to Nat, who just flashed Steve an innocent smile.

"Never, Stevie, we were just evening the playing field." It was a Friday night and they'd just finished their toughest round of exams yet so they had no doubt Steve was going to drink with them. The only question was how much. Nat refilled his glass as well as her own, though hers looked pinker.

"I'm going to get changed and then we can make dinner if you guys want." They both waved in agreement as Steve disappeared back into Nat's room with his gym bag. Bucky took another sip and almost spat it back out in surprise.

"What the hell Nat? Is this straight vodka with food coloring?" She laughed, and he noticed her drink was much more pink than his. "You trying to get me drunk?" Another laugh, this one a little bubblier, but he just sighed and bit back a groan when the vodka burned his throat. Shit it felt like pure alcohol. She just laughed.

"I would never, Bucky, how could you think so little of me?" But she was still laughing even as she said it and he rolled his eyes. It always did seem to hit her first, but it always hit him harder. Cause you're not a real Russian, Nat would say, but he never minded the fact. He trusted them both enough to actually get drunk with them, which was saying a lot already.

"Hey Stevie I got your hard apple cider out here!" Steve grunted from inside her room but even Bucky had to laugh. It amused them both, greatly, that they did shots of insanely strong vodka and Steve could reach the same level of drunk with two hard ciders. It was actually kind of adorable, Bucky decided. Like even his body thought he was too innocent for Russian vodka.

An hour later, they were all three sprawled out on the floor of Natasha's room, a little more than tipsy and full of cheap pizza. Nat groaned when she heard her roommates get home. They yelled for her, obviously seeing her keys on the counter, but she just groaned back that she was on the floor and if they wanted something they could come to her. They laughed and their voices faded.

"Hey, we should play truth or truth?" Natasha made a face at Steve, even if it was a strange one.

"What's the fun in that? Dares are the best part." Bucky had to agree, personally, though he'd never played it. But Steve shook his head, sipping his hard cider.

"No, see it's truth or truth because then no one has to get off the floor." That appealed greatly to Nat and, since it was her room, the decision was made. Her personality when drunk wasn't all that different from when she was sober, honestly, but she made much more apparent declarations rather than suggestions and Steve and Bucky both just followed her demands with soft chuckles. She declared that she would go first.

"Steven," The blond glared playfully at her and threw a headband in the direction of her face but she just threw it back. "Truth or truth?" Steve pretended to think very hard, cupping his jaw with his own fingers and curling an imaginary moustache.

"Hmm… Truth." Nat just smiled, a little lopsided now but a smile nonetheless.

"Why'd you break up with Eliza?" Steve's Northern-Light-Blue eyes hardened over and he gave Nat a real glare, enough to make her hesitate, but the question had already been asked and drunk Nat reminded him of that. Besides, they were all friends.

"Because I wasn't in love with her. She was great but I didn't want be in a relationship that wasn't actually real." That was surprisingly deep, given how the night had started, but Nat just took the somber tone and rolled with it.

"I'm sorry. Your turn, Steven." Steve just sipped his cider again.

"Natasha, truth or truth?" She squinted at him, obviously annoyed that he wasn't continuing the triangle, but she relented.

"Truth."

"When you first met Bucky, here, were you hitting on him?" Natasha flushed a slight shade of pink and it seemed that Steve had exacted his revenge because she, too, glared.

"You know that I was." Steve settled with that, content she'd been embarrassed. "My turn. Buck, truth or truth?" He rolled his eyes at them.

"Just ask the actual question, you dorks." She pouted and flicked something off the carpet at him but turned back to her drink.

"Fine, sourpuss. What's the tattoo on your ribs say?" Dammit. He knew she'd seen it, accidentally, when he was changing but he'd hoped she forgot. There was a reason that one was covered, usually.

"It's a proverb. Translated, it means: Until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter." She hummed, as if appreciating the depth of that, but Steve looked awestruck by the fact that he had even more tattoos. Little did he know…

"Your turn, Buck." He glanced between them but his mind was already made up.

"Steve, why did you move here?" It was genuine question, Bucky honestly wanted to know because he realized he knew very little about Steve before he'd come to college, but both Steve and Nat stiffened. Had he said something wrong?

"Steve, you don't have to-" But Steve shook his head at Natasha and took another swig of cider.

"No, it's okay." He faced Bucky, making the answer seem that much more intense. "My mom and I lived in Brooklyn when I was growing up. When I was fourteen, she got sick. We tried but… She died when I was seventeen and I came to live with my estranged uncle until I was eighteen. I ended up staying because I liked the college." Bucky bit his lip. Shit he had not been expecting that but he definitely was not ready for the ache it put in his body. Every inch of his muscles burned like he'd been running for his life and he was overwhelmed with the urge to reached out and hug Steve, to squeeze that sad little twinge out of his voice, but he stayed still on the carpet. It was Steve's turn.

"Bucky," Oh no, retaliation? "Why did you move here?" Okay, that was a fair question. He honestly should have assumed Steve would have some tragic backstory that made him even harder not to love but him? He just had a long, long trail of bad decisions behind him.

"I threw a dart at a map. The first time, it hit the Atlantic. The second was here." That didn't seem to be enough of an answer, though, because both of them just kept looking with that one word plastered across their faces: why? "I… I guess you could say I got in with the wrong group of people where I used to live. I needed to get away, didn't matter where I went." They stared at him, but the game was done. There was no trading of turns, just questions being drunkenly asked and answered, but Bucky wasn't sure that he minded. It was weird, and almost concerning how trusting he was of them, but he didn't care.

"The number?" Nat motioned to the tattoo behind his ear and he sighed.

"I was a military brat. My dad was in the Navy and we bounced around place to place a lot. It's the number from his ID tags." For a moment, they were all quiet. "Nat, why did you move here?"

"I followed Steve, at first, because we grew up together and I was worried. But I ended up really liking it here so I stayed. If your dad was Navy, why can you speak Russian so well?" That was always the question, when it came down to it. There were details that could get lost in the fray but there was no offhanded way to explain why he was so comfortable with a language he theoretically should have never come in contact with.

"My dad was killed by an IUD while we were overseas. I got displaced from the group and assumed dead, left on my own near Odessa. I didn't have a lot of options so I grabbed the first friends I could make, the first ones who could get me food and shelter, and I joined the Bratva." Nat's eyes widened into saucers. "The Russian mafia," he added for Steve, who still looked confused.

"You're shitting me." She sounded as unbelieving as anyone he'd ever told-granted it was a short list-but Steve was staring at him with something potent in his eyes. It wasn't fear, thank god, but it was something strong. He couldn't tell if it was a bad thing.

"No, I was thirteen and motivated to succeed. I was low level, at first, but I did well and I moved up the ladder." He stopped for a second, reconsidering his next words, but something in Steve's gaze forced the words out. "I did a lot of things that I can never undo and I wish I could say they were mistakes but they weren't. Anyways, long story short an exchange went bad and I was essentially disowned. No greenlight or assassins, just instructions to get out of town. So here I am." Both Steve and Natasha just stared at him, dumbfounded, as if they couldn't entirely process what he'd just said to them but he couldn't really blame them. It was a lot to take in, even for the person who'd done it.

"How are you not dead?" Nat finally asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I made a lot of friends in my time there-powerful friends. It was enough to get out, but not enough for forgiveness." Nat looked at him with some kind of reverence but Steve… Steve looked at him like he couldn't decide if he was supposed to be afraid or impressed or both. From the way he bit his lip, it looked like a positive sentiment. Nat quickly stood and took all of their empty glasses back to the kitchen but she was gone a little too long for it not to be planned. She'd left him alone with Steve, who was still chewing his lower lip.

"Stop that." Steve jumped at his voice, as if he was suddenly scary, but released his lip. It was red and slightly swollen and god Bucky wanted to kiss those lips. It just wasn't fair how fucking intoxicating that sight was.

"Sorry." Always the apologetic, polite one. It contrasted well with Bucky's tattoos and long hair and distrust of authority, but it made him even better. Bucky wanted to be the one who corrupted him.

"You don't have to apologize." Steve stared back at him, eyes a little wider than usual, but Bucky didn't say a word. Those eyes… like a winter aurora borealis. The silence evidently made Steve uncomfortable because he shifted on the carpet and bit his lip again.

"I told you not to do that, Steve." The blond flushed, staring at his hands, but it was too adorable. Nat was still gone, she was condoning this and pushing him to act on it, and he was still a little more than tipsy so he scooted closer on the floor. Steve shivered, and he reached out and caught that chiseled chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Why are you blushing?" Steve just flushed a darker shade of red. "Are you scared of me now, Steven?" Those gorgeous eyes flicked down to the floor but he didn't move from the palm of Bucky's hand. God he loved that thought. He gently stroked the stubble on Steve's chin, waiting for him to answer, forcing the words out by letting him sit in the silence.

"No, not scared…" Bucky hummed in approval. "Not exactly." What was that supposed to mean? He caught those sinfully beautiful eyes with his own and held them, asking without having to say it. Steve hesitated, but something about Bucky's hand on his face seemed to distract him. Interesting…

"Not exactly?" he repeated, mimicking Steve's tone. "What does that mean, Steven?" Again, the full name made a little more heat rise in those beautiful cheeks. He loved it, he was using it on purpose. God those eyes… Steve took in a deep breath and let it out, steeling himself for the words he was going to say. Bucky waited.

"Not scared of you in a bad way, I mean. It's good, I think." Bucky smiled and the way Steve relaxed almost immediately at the signal was amazing. He drank it in like honey.

"It's good?" It was a clarification, rather than a doubt, but Steve nodded in his palm. He'd never looked so small or so relaxed. Even now, when they were just sitting together, Steve had to breath and take a second before he responded.

"Yeah, good. You're… confident." Bucky waited, silently prying for more. "I think you were scared, before, of letting something slip about your time in Russia, because we didn't know. But now you're not scared. I like it." So maybe Steve was a little more than tipsy too. But Bucky couldn't look away from those beautiful eyes or-fuck. Steve's lower lip was still red and slightly puffy and it looked so kissable…

"Do you like it? Or me?" Steve stuttered out a breath into his palm but Bucky couldn't just do it. He waited, listening. Forcing Steve to reply, to say something he was uncomfortable saying.

"Both, I think…" Bucky smiled, pulling him closer. He could hear Nat in the next room, busying herself with something other than them, but he couldn't help himself anymore. He released Steve's chin and slid that hand to the back of his neck, coaxing him closer. Steve melted into him.

"Steve…" He smiled, pulling him closer, until their lips touched and jesus fucking christ Steve's lips were like melted chocolate against his. He breathed him in, nipping at his lower lip. But he did not expect Steve to part his lips, to let him in so willingly that Bucky almost clacked their teeth together, and he did not expect Steve to grip his hair and pull him even closer. Jesus. He lost himself in it, letting Steve be his only source of oxygen. He never, ever wanted to pull away. He could live like that, with his lips locked with Steve's, for eternity. But he had to breathe, so he pulled back, but Steve caught the back of his neck and didn't let him get more than a centimeter away.

"Buck, don't you fucking dare stop now." That was all it took. Bucky snapped, throwing out every scrap of self control and forethought that he'd ever had. He gripped Steve and pushed him back onto the carpet. He straddled him, grinding their hips together with a gasp, but nothing compared to the way Steve arched off the ground into his touch. He couldn't stop, he didn't want to stop, because nothing felt more addictive than the feeling of Steve's skin against his own-but Steve was the one who eased back. And he let him, even if it felt like he was dying with every inch of space between them.

"You can't take this back, Buck." But Bucky shook his head, his forehead still pressed against Steve's.

"I don't want to take it back." That, somehow, made Steve melt even more into him and for a second it wasn't lust and frantic hands on each other's bodies. Just for a second, Bucky stopped. He breathed in that familiar smell that was so Steve that it hurt. He focused on the strong, steady heartbeat he could feel against his palm-Steve's heartbeat-and let it seep into him, calming his own. And he lost himself in the way Steve nuzzled into the hollow of his throat.

"Jesus, Stevie," he breathed, running his thumb appreciatively along Steve's cheekbone-he was so gorgeous. "I've wanted to do that for so long." Steve smiled, the first genuine smile he'd gotten from the man in over a week, and Bucky almost melted right then and there. Steve had been so stressed with finals and work… Seeing that smile was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. All of his fear, all of his suffering, every frozen lonely night he'd gotten through as a teenager, all of it led up to this moment. To that smile.

"What took you so long?" He had to laugh, and it rumbled down into Steve's body. Wait, no, Steve was laughing too. That was almost too much but Bucky had to kiss him again, even if it was only a sweet, chaste little moment.

" _Congrats, Bucky, you finally got up the nerve._ " They both jumped guiltily when Nat walked back into the room but she sat on the couch, acting like nothing had even happened. Steve's confused look was the only thing that even made him notice the Russian.

" _You knew?_ " Nat laughed, throwing a piece of popcorn at them where they were still awkwardly splayed on the floor.

" _Of course I knew, idiot. Even Clint knew and he met you for five minutes at a party one time. But congrats, honestly. You deserve him._ " Coming from Nat, the woman who had followed Steve across an entire country out of compassion alone, that meant a lot.

" _Thank you._ " She smiled, resuming the movie, but Steve just looked at them, not sure if he should be scared or not.

"Are you guys talking shit about me in Russian?" Nat laughed again. She was awfully happy, and Bucky had a pretty good idea why.

"Always, Steven. You're all we talk about."

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Thanks for reading! Review please!


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